jQuery(document).ready(function($){$('#aside .widget-archive > ul').addClass('fancy');});

Finding Inspiration in the Ordinary (and sorting through the web of motherdom, kindof)

OH BOY.  Is the ordinary reality of life really so boring that I can only write about the extraordinary unreality of adventure?  This question plagues me and my newly found blogging hobby.  How easy it is to get caught up in the day to day act of survival and let your spirit dry up (like my poor sugar snap peas), and subsequently, your inspiration to create.  I need to remind myself to turn on the sewing machine and make a few stitches and to realize that while my ordinary life can seem monotonous and stagnant, it’s those very moments in between that create room for the extraordinary.  It is the journey, after all, not the destination, that will define your life.

To be a human being is a complex problem but to be a mother is a whole new magnitude of clusterf&%$ed-ness.  And I do believe that it’s a cluster totally unique to a mother; one that father’s [generally] don’t experience (to the same extent).  Women, as I see it, are expected to wear many hats.  We’ve risen above the status of housewife and sit side by side our male counterparts, but are still required to be the more domesticated of the two, which means getting dinner on the table and clean laundry in the closet.  To be a mother is to be constantly torn in two directions.  Guilt becomes a normal feeling.  And as if figuring out/fulfilling our life’s purpose wasn’t difficult enough to manage with the constant needs of slightly parasitic children, the preschool debacle and the possibility that I’m poisoning my kids brains by feeding them whole wheat bread (and a smattering of other stuff), is enough to make even the sanest of moms fall off their rocker.  Geesh, it’s no wonder I’d rather live in the unreality of adventure.

This is how the water boils, for me.  I basically live straddled in two worlds under constant siege with myself; living the life of a domestic goddess (albeit not quite that gracefully), dreaming about [somehow creating a career] with a backpack on my back (or perhaps my front, with a baby strapped to my back ).  Reconciling the sedentary nature of having kids has been a difficult prospect for me.  Which I think is why I’ve found this blog so inspiring.  Maybe I don’t have to choose, maybe I can have my cake and eat it too.  Gluttonous you say?  Selfish perhaps some are thinking?  But I don’t see it this way (except when I do – after all, why on earth would my brain allow for such a cut and dry answer, I meant siege when I said it).  Kids happened to me.  I didn’t plan for it (initially – number one oh-so-surprising, number two oh-so-planned); yet I find them integral to life as I know it.  Why can’t my journey be their journey?  Does choosing life in the direction of kids have to mean suburbs, conventional school and soccer tournaments (or a derivative therof)?  Or could it look like an RV, homeschool, and learning about and gaining passion for anything and everything under the sun (or a derivative therof)?

But then comes in the convention in me, waltzing in like the elephant no one invited.  She screams, “but, the kids need routine and consistency in order to develop proper social skills and become confident, secure adults”.  They need “Montessori preschool, or wait, was it Waldorf, or good god, maybe Reggio Emilio” in order to become the people I hope them to be.  In the end, I think that my hope is that a supportive, loving family unit is all they’ll really need.  The constant questioning of how they’ll become the best people they can be is dead ended in ambiguity; who the eff knows, including me, what formula will work best?  You can read and read and analyze and think and think and analyze some more and end up a crazy maker spouting your revelations on your blog and creating a whole new line of crazy making, paranoid, mothers.  Or, you can give yourself a break and let faith guide you.

In short, if you can relate to my cluster, let your journey and the journey of your children be one of the same, rooted in love and support, open to exploring and engaging in the vast world around you… at least that’s what I’m going to do… for now.

Go turn on your sewing machine (or other proverbial device) and fill your spirit.

Be inspired and create room for the extraordinary.